Shake, Murder, and Roll by Gail Oust

Author:Gail Oust
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2011-05-10T22:00:00+00:00

“Sorry, Miz McCall, he’s busy.”

The first words out of Tammy Lynn’s mouth rarely varied. But was I insulted? No, I was immune to words of unwelcome, vaccinated against a cool reception. Instead I plastered on a friendly face. “Now, Tammy Lynn, I thought after our fun evening of bunco, you’d call me Kate like I asked you.”

She shot a nervous glance over her shoulder toward the sheriff’s office. “Yes, ma’am, you surely did. And I will, swear to God, but just not here, okay?”

“That’s quite all right, dear. I understand perfectly.” Apparently there was some unwritten rule about not being on a first-name basis with a pesky senior citizens. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just kill some time reading the Most Wanted posters. I’d hate to ignore any new felon-in-training.”

“No, ma’am. You might want to read the one I just posted about a bank robber in Raleigh.”

Tammy Lynn turned to the intercom to announce my arrival. I moseyed over to inspect bearded faces pinned to a bulletin board. Certainly a motley crew. Surly, sullen, and shifty-eyed, they might as well have “criminal” tattooed on their foreheads. One glimpse, and I’d speed dial 911. Feigning interest in a man wanted in connection with an armed robbery of a gas station, I shamelessly eavesdropped. Phrases like “what should I tell her?” were punctuated with “you’re in a meetin’?” and “plannin’ session with mayor?” were bandied about.

Behind me, Tammy Lynn cleared her throat. “Mm, ma’am, sheriff told me to apologize for any inconvenience, but to tell you he’s on a conference call. Said it could take hours.”

I smiled and patted my handbag. “Tell him I brought my lunch.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I returned to my study of fugitives from justice. Seems like aggravated assault was the crime du jour. Grand theft larceny was a close runner up with burglary a distant third. I was happy homicide hadn’t made the top three. Wanted posters exhausted, I settled into one of the molded—and uncomfortable—plastic chairs. I deliberately chose a vantage point with a clear shot of the hallway. No way was the wily sheriff was going to duck out a back door. No sirree, not on my watch. I pulled out a novel, a nice, thick, six-hundred-page novel, prepared to play the waiting game.

One hour passed, then two. By now it was close to lunchtime, but I’d come prepared for every contingency. I pulled out a sandwich.

I heard the intercom buzz and Tammy Lynn whisper, “Yes, sir, still here.” This was followed by a pause, then, “She’s eating a sandwich—tuna, I think. And she brought a thermos.”

After finishing my sandwich, I dug into my purse and pulled out a Ziploc bag filled with chocolate chip cookies. “Want one?” I asked, offering them to Tammy Lynn.

“Er, no, thank you…well, maybe just one.”

“Take two, I have plenty.”

Thirty minutes later the intercom buzzed again.

“Sorry, sir. I tried, sir, truly I did, but she’s still here.” Poor Tammy Lynn. She sounded a tad distraught. Another pause, followed by, “She’s readin’ a book, sir—a mighty thick one.

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